


Fragmented

by aen_naazh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aen_naazh/pseuds/aen_naazh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thought he was living the perfect life, everything seemed so normal, there were no demons; literal or metaphorical. Yet he can’t help but be rattled by the dreams that haunt him at night, one that is filled with monsters and other terrifying things. The only constant he has in both world is Castiel and his brother and he has no idea which version of them is the real one and which ones are the product of his screwed up head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Fragmented  
> Author: aen_naazh  
> Artist: winchesterpooja  
> Fandom/Genre: Suspense,  
> Pairing (s): Dean/Castiel  
> Rating: M  
> Word Count: ~20,000  
> Warnings: character Death (temporary), Suicide (temporary)  
> Summary: Dean thought he was living the perfect life, everything seemed so normal, there were no demons; literal or metaphorical. Yet he can’t help but be rattled by the dreams that haunt him at night, one that is filled with monsters and other terrifying things. The only constant he has in both world is Castiel and his brother and he has no idea which version of them is the real one and which ones are the product of his screwed up head.
> 
> Art available at winchesterpooja.livejournal.com/22780.html  
> Written for Destiel Big Bang 2014

 

 

Monday mornings were always the worst. Dean didn’t think there was a single person in the history of America that didn’t share his opinion. Except Castiel. Castiel is always up before Dean, usually already showered, dressed and downstairs making breakfast. Dean would have thought that the dozen or so beers he had last night, or even the fact that it was the Fourth of July and thus they didn’t even have to go to work might have deterred him but Dean still woke up to the smell of pancakes filling in the house. Dean isn’t a huge fan of pancakes, after a heavy night out drinking he’d prefer a plate full of meat, but any time there was a long weekend you could count on Castiel dropping a plate full of it in front of you.

 

Dean drags himself out of bed, only bother to slip on a pair of sweatpants before he makes his way downstairs. He finds Castiel in front of the stove, flipping over a half done pancake and walks up behind him, lazily laying his chin on Castiel’s shoulder. “I woke up alone.”

 

“I had things to do.”

 

“Things? It’s a holiday.” Castiel gives him a curt look and drops a pancake on the plate next to him, adding to the already monstrous pile. Dean knows what he’s talking about, Sam and a few others were coming over for a barbeque and that means that Castiel was in full on Martha Stuart mode. “The place looks fine.”

 

“It’s filthy,” Castiel shakes his head and pours more batter into the pan. “People will think wild dogs live here.”

 

“You’re adorable,” Dean chuckles into his shoulder. “Sam doesn’t care what our house looks like.”

 

“I care.” He flips his pancake and it sizzles against the iron. “Besides Sam isn’t the only one coming.”

 

Dean’s arms wrap around Castiel’s waist and he pulls his back tight against his chest. “We can clean after.”

 

“After?” Castiel asks. Dean’s hand slowly slides down Castiel’s stomach, making a b-line for his pants but as soon as his fingers graze the skin beneath his belt Castiel slaps his spatula against Dean’s hand. “Dean, that’s unsanitary.”

 

“Come on,” Dean nips at Castiel’s ear but he just jerks his head away. “You really left me hanging last night.”

 

“I did no such thing. You passed out before I could…” Castiel trails off and resumes silently flipping his pancake. Dean grins at Castiel’s embarrassment, despite all the years they’ve spent together Castiel really caught on to the dirty talk

 

“Before you could what? Go on, I wanna hear about all the dirty little plans you had running through your head.”

 

Castiel sighs, a sign that Dean thinks must mean he’s given up but instead Castiel reaches over to the microwave and pops the door open. He grabbed the plate inside and held it up to Dean who practically drools over the mass of bacon on it. Dean’s previous intentions fly out the window and he takes the bacon from Castiel and sits down at the table. Castiel shakes his head and flips another pancake. “You are insufferable.”

 

“And you are a neat freak bordering on OCD,” Dean shrugs and shoves a piece of meat into his mouth. Castiel finishes the pancakes and Dean smothers it in table syrup despite the disgusted face Castiel gives him. They eat their breakfast and Dean goes out to tune up the engine of his car while Castiel stays in. Castiel accuses Dean of just trying to get out of cleaning but he doesn’t try to keep him inside, Dean suspects that Castiel knows he’ll get more done without Dean hanging around trying to ‘help’. Dean slips on a pair of coveralls and spends the next few hours getting greased up and

 

A hand grabs his ankle and yanks him out from under his car, Dean is greeted with a ham sandwich and a tiny grin on his boyfriend’s face. “Hungry?”

 

“I could use a break,” Dean grins. He wipes his dirty hands against his legs and unzips the top half of his coveralls and shrugs his arms out the sleeves. Dean bites into the sandwich and Castiel tries to make himself comfortable on the cold, stone floor. “How’s the house?”

 

“Clean.” Castiel leans against the car’s grill. “Provided you stay out of it until tonight.”

 

“Okay, I’m not that bad,” Dean grumbles. “You make me sound like the Tasmanian devil.”

 

“I wonder sometimes,” Castiel laughs.

 

Dean does manage to stay out of the house and in the garage for most of the afternoon. Eventually he shucks off his stained outfit and hops into the shower, Castiel comes in half way through to complain about him leaving his dirty clothes on his freshly cleaned floor. Dean shoots back that he doubts many people are going to be in their bedroom’s bathroom but Castiel just flushes the toilet in response and turns Dean’s shower into a searing sauna.

 

Originally Sam and Jessica where the only ones coming to the barbeque but somehow more and more people ended up being invited and now Dean had to dubious task of entertaining twenty or so people that night. Dean sighs as he dries off after his shower, he definitely wasn’t a fan of big parties and he knew Castiel wasn’t either but he also had trouble saying no to anyone. Which meant that Dean now had to cook up enough food to feed all those people and act interested when the guest talk to him about the weather and what colour they wanted to paint their houses.

 

“You know I hate our neighbors,” Dean complains as he drops a bunch of condiments on the table. Castiel has meticulously arranged fold away chairs around the table he made Dean drag out. There is a plate of hot dogs and hamburgers sitting next to the grill and a platter of buns, cheese and chopped onions on the table.

 

“That is an exaggeration.” Castiel straightens the condiments and opens a bag of plastic forks, which Dean thinks was a stupid thing to buy because the only one whose going to eat the salad is Sam. “You like Rick from down the street.”

 

“I don’t know why you keep trying to get them to like us.” Dean goes into the house and brings out an empty platter and a big box full of frozen hamburger patties. “You know Mrs. Scott can’t stand that we live next to her.”

 

“We did move in together before we were married,” Castiel musses.

 

Dean grimaces at Castiel’s mentioned their five year relationship without Dean so much as hinting at marriage. “I really don’t think _that’s_ the problem the old crone has with us.”

 

“It’s too late to cancel the party now, people will be here soon.” Castiel drops a package of hotdogs on top of the hamburger box. “So just try and act like you care.”

 

“You know they hate you too.”

 

“They do not. Stop trying to get me to cancel the party.” Dean cusses under his breath but goes inside to bring out the cooler full of beer and soda. Castiel calls after him, “Don’t forget to grab buns while you’re in there.”

 

“How much did all this cost?”

 

“I used my own money,” Castiel rolls his eyes.

 

“That’s not what I asked you.” Dean searches in the grocery bag holding the buns for a receipt. “You were the one saying I was spending too much money.”

 

“You’re car already runs, I don’t see what you could possibly need to add to it at this point.”

 

“It’s not about making her run, it’s about making her purr.” Dean finally finds the receipt and examines the total. “A hundred and fifty-two dollars? Are the hamburgers dipped in gold?”

 

“I bought other things.” Castiel snatches the receipt from Dean’s hand and shoves it into his pocket. “Are you going to spend the whole night complaining?”

 

“Probably.”

 

Castiel sighs and takes the bags from Dean then sets them on the table. “Perhaps you need some incentivizing.”

 

“I’d like to see you try and bribe me,” Dean snorts. Castiel’s hand collides with his chest and knocks him of balance, sending him tumbling the ground. Dean scowls and starts to yell at Castiel when he finds the man on top of him. “That’s cheating.”

 

Castiel leans down and presses his lips against Dean’s, one of his hands dips under Dean’s old tee-shirt. When he pulls away Dean tries to yank him back down but Castiel grabs his wrists and pins them to the ground. “I need you to behave for four hours.”

 

“That is three and a half hours too long.”

 

Castiel nips at Dean’s neck. “I’m sure you can manage.”

 

“I _could_ doesn’t mean I will.”

 

“I’ll owe you one,” Castiel tells him, gently grinding his hips against Dean’s.

 

“You already owe me one,” Dean complains. Castiel smirks and leans down again but before their lips even touch the fence door begins to giggle.

 

“Boy, I can’t get this damn thing open!” Mr. Scott grumbles.

 

“Just pull the handle harder, dear.”

 

“I will get it,” Castiel calls to them. He softly kisses Dean then rises to his feet before Dean can stop him and kiss him again. “Four hours.”

 

“Whatever.” Dean stands up and brushes dirt off his jeans as the elderly couple shuffles in. “Hey, Jane, how’s it going.”

 

She glowers at him through her giant glasses, she’s told Dean several times not the call her by her first name. “Fine.”

 

“No food yet, hm?” Mr. Scott frowns.

 

“Not yet. I’m gonna start it right away.” Dean puts on his best fake smile but as soon as Mr. Scott turns his back he glares at Castiel. “You owe me _big_.”

 

Castiel hands Dean the box of hamburgers and points him towards the grill. “Get started.”

 

Castiel goes over to socialize with their neighbors and by the time Dean is laying down the burgers on the grill there are four more people wandering around their yard. Cracking open a beer, Dean smiles at the couple that passes him even though he has no idea who they are.

 

Deans flips over one of the patties and presses the spatula on top. Fat is squeezed out of it and into the fire which makes the flames rise up, slightly burning Dean’s hand when he doesn’t move away quickly enough. Dean drops the spatula and hisses at the pain. He goes to turn down the gas but he looks at the fire and his mind freezes. The party seems to fade around him as he is overcome by a sudden unbearable heat. The cheerful laughter is replaced by muffled screaming and the pain in his hand travels up his wrist and through his chest.

 

It terrifying but he can’t move, he wants to yell out but any noise dies in his throat. It’s almost like he blinked and found himself in-

 

“Are you alright?” A hand on his shoulder snaps him out of his daze and he turns to see Castiel looking at him with concerned eyes.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Dean turns down the grill and closes the lid on the barbeque. “Just got a little too close.”

 

“Mr. Valentino just lectured me on proper lawn care.” Castiel shakes his head and sits down on the chair next to Dean. “He’s worried our ‘plain’ lawn might bring down out property value.”

 

“Not going the way you thought, huh?” Dean grins. “How’s everyone else treating you?”

 

Castiel frowns. “They just form their own little groups at the tables and ignore everyone.”

 

“That’s because they’re all stuck up.”

 

“I don’t know what I’m going wrong.”

 

“People think you’re weird, babe.”

 

“My people skills are a little rusty.” Dean feels his heart stutter just as it had when the fire burned him. His mind throbs for some unknown reason but Castiel doesn’t notice his inner turmoil, a neighbor greets him and he turns to go talk to them.

 

“What did you say?” Dean asks, grabbing Castiel’s shoulder and turns him back around.

Castiel’s brow creases at Dean’s slightly frantic expression. He pulls free of Dean’s tight grip rubs the sore spot on his arm.

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

“Oh,” is all Dean can say as he lets go of Castiel.

 

“Dean, are you all right?” Castiel asks concerned. He steps closer to Dean, takes the beer away from him and lays his hand on Dean’s back. “Would you like to go upstairs?”

 

Dean shakes his head, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that sat like lead in the pit of his stomach. “I’m fine, just stood up too fast.”

 

Castiel doesn’t look entirely convinced but he knows Dean won’t want to cause a scene in front of all those people. “We’ll talk after everyone leaves.”

 

“Sure,” Dean agrees but he’s already pulling away from Castiel and heading over to his brother. For the strangest reason Castiel’s hands on him makes his skin crawl and his stomach twist.

 

“Hey!” Sam calls out as he opens the gate with Jessica close behind him. It snaps Dean out of his thoughts and he waves.

 

“’bout time you showed up.” Dean tosses Sam a beer and Jessica kisses him on the cheek before she heads over to chit chat with the neighbors. “How much time did you waste getting your hair ready?”

 

“That joke never gets old,” Sam rolls his eyes.

 

Dean twists handle on the barbeque back up again when he notices the burgers aren’t cooking. “How’s it going?”

 

“Same old, same old,” Sam shrugs. “I won that case I was telling you about.”

 

“Guess that means you can give me a couple hundred to cover this stupid party.”

 

“You wish.”

 

Dean tries to shake off the strange feeling he had moments ago but it nags at the back of his mind. He feels like he’s heard Castiel say those words before but he can’t for the life of him remember when. In fact whenever he tries to think more than a few months ago it sends a sharp pain through his mind. It’s only then that he realizes he barely remembers anything from before they moved into this house. In theory he knows it all, he met Castiel when he was visiting Castiel at college and that was five, no six, seven years ago. It had to have been longer than that though if they only started dating once Sam had graduated. Dean shakes his head and tries to remember something else. When had Sam and Jessica gotten married? It was only a few years ago but he doesn’t remember Jessica in her white dress or throwing a bachelor party for Sammy. He’s worked at his job since the year he got his G.E.D. but he can’t recall what happened at the interview.

 

“How long have we been together?” Dean asks suddenly. “Me and Cas.”

 

“Uh,” Sam takes a sip of his beer and looks over at Castiel whose refilling the cooler with coke and cans of ice tea. “Did you forget?”

 

“No,” Dean snaps defensively. “I was just asking.”

 

“Well…” Sam pauses to think the question over. “As long as I can remember, I guess.”

 

Dean nods numbly, takes a beer from the pack on the table and pops it open. Something feels strange, he tries to remember when he first met Castiel but the memory is hazy. It was like remembering your fourth birthday but it was really just your mind making something up after hearing so many stories about it.

 

“I think you’ve had one too many, Dean.” Sam slaps Dean on the back and turns towards where Jessica is talking with the pregnant lady from down the street. “Come get me when the foods done.”

 

Dean sets his bear on the table, he had had a couple before the party started so maybe he was just a little out of it. The smell of burn flesh suddenly hits him and Dean cusses when he realizes he left some burgers on the grill too long. He quickly shoves the spatula beneath one and moves it onto the plate. There is bound to be at least one person there who will eat thing.

 

The rest of the party is uneventful. Dean cooks the food and swallows his complaints when Castiel makes him talk to the other people. He catches Sam and Jessica making out on his couch like a couple of teenagers and dumps ice water on Sam’s head in retribution. They watch the fire works that every one lights once the sun goes down and around nine everyone starts to shuffle out.

 

“You want to come over for dinner sometimes next week?” Sam asks, damp hair still clinging to his forehead. “I was thinking about having mom over.”

 

Yeah, I got nothing else to do.” Dean opens the door for Jessica and hands her her coat. “Let me know what night you want to have it on.”

 

“I’ll make sure there is pie,” Jessica chimes in. She wraps her arms around Dean and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek.

 

“Hold onto this one, Sammy,” Dean laughs and returns the hug. “No one bakes like she does.”

 

Sam smiles and then calls over his shoulder at Castiel who is still in the back yard. “See you later, Cas!”

 

“Goodbye, Sam,” he calls back. Dean watches Sam and Jessica climb into their car and drive away before he closes the door and walks back over to Castiel. Honestly he wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up the mess everyone left.

 

Dean comes up behind Castiel and wraps his arms around the other man’s waist. “Hey.”

 

Castiel shoves more paper plates into the garbage bag. “Don’t even bother.”

 

“I just said hey,” Dean grumbles.

 

“I’m not going anywhere with you till this is all cleaned up.”

 

“Come on-” Dean begins.

 

“Or you can whine about it and have to wait even longer.” Dean grimaces and pulls away from Castiel before begrudgingly picks up one of the garbage bags.

 

Dean takes the garbage bag from Castiel’s hand and drops it back on the ground. “Maybe you just need some convincing.”

 

“Dean,” Castiel says tiredly.

 

“I was nice to everyone at your stupid party.” Dean head dips down and he kisses Castiel’s neck. Castiel doesn’t say anything and Dean takes that a sign that he should continue. He pushes at Castiel’s chest until he has him laid down on the picnic table. After a moment of obvious struggling between choosing to follow Dean’s lead or finish cleaning, Castiel makes his choice and presses his lips against Deans’

 

Dean’s hand pushes under the hem of Castiel’s shirt and Castiel’s fingers dip inside the collar of Dean’s shirt.

 

A sudden blast of water collides with Dean’s back, he yelps and jumps of Castiel in shock but that just leaves him unprotected from the attack himself. Just as soon as it began it ends but Dean looks over his shoulder at the mess of grey hair that peeks over the fence.

 

“My apologies Mrs. Scott!” Castiel calls out.

 

Dean laughs and grabs Castiel’s hand. “Come on, we will clean up after. Promise.”

 

“I have fallen for that lie before,” Castiel grumbles but he lets Dean lead him inside and up the stairs. When they reach their bedroom door, Dean shoves Castiel against it and quickly presses his body against Castiel’s.

 

“I could take you right here.”

 

“No,” Castiel says curtly. He reaches behind him for the door handle and twists it, nearly sending them both tumbling inside their room. Castiel pulls away from Dean and lifts his shirt over his head. Dean is quick to follow, shedding his shirt and pants before they reach the bed. Castiel makes a show of slowly pulling down his boxer shorts, knowing that Dean is barley resisting tossing him to the floor and doing it right there on the carpet.

 

“Tease,” Dean growls. He yanks Castiel into a kiss then pushes back onto the bed, quickly pulling of his own boxers and tossing them somewhere on the floor. Standing at the edge of the bed he takes a moment to appreciate the site of Castiel, naked and splayed across the bed.

 

“Well?” Castiel asks impatiently.

 

“Well what?”

 

Castiel frowns. “After all the complaining you’ve done today and now you just stare at me.”

 

Dean grins and crawls closer to Castiel, covering his body with his and brushed Castiel’s bangs out of his eye. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

 

Castiel tosses an arm over Dean’s shoulders and pulls him down into a kiss. Dean smiles against Castiel’s lips and reaches onto the floor where he had thrown his jeans. He shoves his hand in the pocket and pulls out a packet of lube he had put there earlier that day. When he rips open the package, Castiel looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

 

“Why were you carrying that around?”

 

“I would have gotten you after dinner if Sam hadn’t made a move at Jessica on our couch.”

 

Castiel’s cheeks turn a faint shade of red at the mental image. “There were people there.”

 

“You‘re point?” Dean asks as he pushes a slick finger inside Castiel. The other man moans and pushes his hips against Dean’s hand. Dean works quickly, he’s waited too long to be sweet and gentle and he knows Castiel is expecting this. When he pulls his fingers free of Castiel, he pulls Castiel’s leg around his waist and enters him in one swift movement.

 

Castiel gasps and reaches up to pull Dean down into a kiss, mumbling nonsense against his lips as he does. Dean has been waiting for this all day and with the way Castiel wiggles beneath him he has to struggle to hold on. His nails dig into Castiel’s hips, making his hiss and his legs tighten around Dean’ waist.

 

When Dean lifts hips up ever so slightly and thrust into him particularly hard, it’s all Castiel needs to send him over the edge. Thick, white ropes coat his chest before Castiel goes limp beneath him. Castiel can tell Dean is close himself and he reaches up to hold Dean’s face before he whispers his name in that gravelly voice that drive Dean crazy. He grunts as he pushes against Castiel one last time and collapses on his chest, not worried about the mess between them.

 

“Was that worth the wait?” Castiel asks him a little breathlessly.

 

“I don’t know,” Dean says.

 

“You don’t know?” Castiel asks, a tinge of hurt in his voice.

 

“I might need to try once or twice more to be really sure.”

 

“You’re insufferable.” Castiel pinches Dean’s arm and Dean laughs and kisses his shoulder.

 

“You’re always worth the wait.” Dean lays his head on Castiel’s shoulder and closes his eyes. “I’m too tired to clean, let’s do it tomorrow.”

 

“You’re not going to do any cleaning tomorrow.”

 

“I will,” Dean protests. “I just need to rest a little first.”

 

“’m not tired,” Castiel mumbles, stroking Dean’s hair. “You sleep, I’ll watch over you.”

 

A cold chill hits Dean’s spine and he tenses, he lifts himself up onto his elbows to look at Castiel but he is already fast asleep. Dean swallows the limp in his throat and rolls off Castiel, he is suddenly wide awake and can’t tear his eyes off of the sleeping man beside him. The same thing had happened early, Castiel said something that fired something in Dean’s mind. It was like a forgotten memory was trying to claw itself out.

 

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he forces the feeling down and decides that he is probably just exhausted after that damn party.

 

&&&

 

The sun hits Dean’s face when he turns onto his side,

 

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean grumbles as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. He tries to wipe the tiredness form his eyes and hears the sound of the shower turning on. Dean grins and stretches out his tired muscles before he get up off the bed. He doesn’t bother putting on boxers as he makes his way to the bathroom, stepping over the mess of clothes they had left there the night before.

 

He slowly pushes the door open and steps in quietly, knowing Castiel will tell him to leave if he hears them. Pulling back the curtain, Dean jumps in and grabs hold of Castiel when he nearly loses his balance. Castiel practically ignores him and continues washing his hair. “Hello, Dean.”

 

Dean pulls Castiel away from the shower head so he can rest his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder

Without getting water blasted in his face. “You could have waited for me.”

 

“I like to come out of the shower _clean_.”

 

“You’re such a buzz kill,” Dean complains. He turns Castiel around and presses his front against the other man’s back. “Let’s just call in sick today.”

 

“No.”

 

“I didn’t even get my day off because of your stupid party.”

 

Dean runs his hand up Castiel’s chest and his fingers graze his nipple before Castiel slapped his hand away. “You know I hate being late for work.”

 

“You won’t be late,” Dean promises as his hand drifts lower down Castiel’s torso. “I’ll be quick.”

 

“Sounds very romantic.” Castiel pulls away from Dean and squirts shampoo onto his head. Dean tries to protest but Castiel just reaches up and behinds scrubbing Dean’s hair.

 

“I can clean myself.”

 

“I have yet to see you do that.” Dean scoffs and steps away from Castiel to rinse his hair. Dean catches the faint smile on Castiel’s lips before he begins to lather soup over his skin. “You gonna be home for dinner?”

 

“No,” Castiel shakes his head. “Jack asked me to go to the new Italian restaurant with him.”

 

“That’s not funny.” Dean straightens and frowns. “That’s not funny _at all_. Why would you think that’s funny?”

 

Castiel pretends to look confused. “What’s wrong with dinner with a friend?”

 

Dean scowls at Castiel. Not long ago Castiel had dragged Dean to a corporate party and after a few drinks Jack started to get handsy with his coworker. “Jack is lucky I don’t break his teeth.”

 

“Jealous?” Castiel asks.

 

“Never.” Dean pushes Castiel back against the tile. “You wouldn’t last ten minutes with him before you came crawling back.”

 

Castiel leans in and presses his lips against Dean’s. “You can do a lot in ten minutes.”

 

“Well if that’s how you’re going to be,” Dean pushes away from Castiel and steps out of the shower, “you’re cut off.”

 

A laugh drifts out from the shower as Dean grabs his shower and starts to dry off. “I will be home by five.”

 

“Great.” Dean picks up his tooth brush and squeezes some toothpaste on it. “You can make dinner then.”

 

“Unfortunate.” Castiel pokes his head out from behind the curtain. “I was so looking forward to your store bought lasagna specialty.”

 

Dean spits into the sink and turn to Castiel. “If you want something done right maybe you should do it yourself.”

 

The water is turned off and Castiel steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel off the rack and wrapping it around his hips. “Just try and make something edible.”

 

They go through the usual morning routine; dressing, eating, Castiel drives away first so Dean can get the impala out of the garage. It’s the same day Dean lives over and over again except this today there is something weighing heavy on his mind. He sits at his desk and mindlessly answers emails but he can’t really focus. The night before had been strange to say the least, first his strange reaction to the small burn and then the way Castiel’s words sent him into a near panic. He tries to brush it off, to rationalize it as his tired mind playing tricks on him but for some reason he can’t shake the feeling that something strange is happening.

 

 

$%^$%

 

The rest of the month goes by in a flash. Dean gets up, works, comes home, eats dinner and manages to get Castiel into bed even though he protests that he has too much work to do still. On Thursday they go to Sam’s house for dinner. Jessica makes chicken and roasted potatoes, his mom brings a salad that she’s apparently become famous for at her churches lunch-ins. Dean forgets about his little freak out at the barbeque party and moves on with his life.

 

It’s two months later when Castiel brings up having people over for Thanksgiving. Dean isn’t thrilled about having another party at their house but Castiel tries to assure him it will be fun.

 

“We’ll invite Sam and Jessica, your mother of course. That is only five people.” Castiel is cleaning up the mess that he insists he had asked Dean to clean up early. Dean drops his bear can in the bag and walks over to the kitchen to get another one.

 

“You know I live to make you happy.” Really Dean just wants the conversation to be over so he can finish watching the game. “If we let me make all the decisions we’d spend every day in bed with nothing but beer and pie to eat.”

 

“Is that a yes then?” Castiel asks from the other room.

 

“As long as you do all the cooking.”

 

“Of course.” Dean swears he hears him say “there wouldn’t be anything to eat if you did the cooing.”

 

“It doesn’t just have to be my family, you can invite people. As long as you still keep it _small.”_

“Who would I invite?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugs and rummages deeper into the fridge. “Maybe you could invite your family.”

 

“Family?” Castiel echoes as if the word sounds foreign to him.

 

“One of your brothers, I guess.”

 

“Brothers?” Castiel asks.

 

Dean rolls his eyes, frustrated with whatever game Castiel is playing with him. “Yeah, I can handle Gabriel for a couple hours.”

 

The room falls silent and Dean stands up and closes the fridge door. Castiel still hadn’t responded when Dean walks into the living room and finds him looking at his coffee with a contemplative stare, lips twisted into a frown and brows drawn in concentration. “Who’s Gabriel?”

 

“Your brother. Short, stubby, candy-loving piece of shit Gabriel,” Dean explains. Castiel eyes stay fixed on the steam floating from his cup and Dean is a little grateful that he didn’t turn that

 

“Dean, I don’t have any brothers,” Castiel finally says. He reaches over to the table and sets his cup down, pausing before he turns to Dean as if unsure what to even say to him. “You know that.”

 

Dean blinks at Castiel, there is that feeling again that he was missing something, alongside it a small panic rose up from the way Castiel looked at him. In his mind he clearly saw Gabriel, lollypop sticking out of his stupid grin. “Yeah…yeah I know, I’m just messing around.”

 

Castiel approaches him with slow, cautioned steps. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” Dean shrugs.

 

“You’ve been acting…strange these last few weeks.” Castiel runs his hand up Dean’s arm and cups his cheek. “I’m worried about you.”

 

“I said I was fine.”

 

Castiel stares at him for a long moment before his hands drop to his sides. “Okay.”

 

“I don’t really feel like watching the game anymore.” Dean turns and heads for the bedroom. “I think I’ll just go to bed.”

 

Castiel doesn’t stop him as he quickly rushes up the stairs.

 

 

$%^$%^

 

_Dean isn’t completely sure where he is, he’s surrounded by dusty old barn walls and a dirt floor and Bobby’s standing with him but nothing looks familiar. Even though his head is spinning he looks around the room and his eyes land on Castiel, wearing some oversized trench coat that’s probably too warm to be wearing. There’s a gun in Dean’s hand for some reason, the smell of burnt powder floats in the air and Castiel’s walking towards him with steady, determined eyes. Dean drops the gun and steps towards Castiel, everything feels wrongs and he knows Castiel can fix it. Castiel says something but everything just sounds like ringing in his ears. Still Dean feels relieved to have him close by and he reaches out to him but there’s something heavy in the hand he raises. Dean sees the knife clutched in his hand but is helpless to stop it plunging into Castiel chest. Castiel’s flesh offered no resistance; the knife slid through like he was made of hot butter and Castiel’s eyes never wavered as Dean impaled him._

 

Dean jolts awake, a strangled cry dying in his throat as he realizes he’s in the safety of his own room. “Dean?”

 

Castiel raises his head from his pillow, eyes still glazed over with sleep. Dean is struggling to catch his breath and he wipes his hand over the thin blanket of sweet across his forehead. “It’s okay.”

 

Castiel pushes himself up and lays his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Just a nightmare,” Dean tells him. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“I’ll get you some water,” Castiel says and pushes the covers off.

 

“No, it’s fine, just go back to sleep,” Dean repeats but Castiel just clicks his tongue in annoyance.

 

“Dean, don’t be difficult.” Castiel reaches out to Dean but has his hand slapped away.

 

“I said I’m fine!” Dean shouts. Dean drops his head into his hands but he can feel Castiel’s gaze burning into his skin. He risks a glance over to Castiel and sees his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. After a long tense silence, Castiel grabs his pillow and walks out of the room. “Cas, wait.”

 

The other man doesn’t so much as glance back at Dean and the slams the door behind him. Regret gnaws at Dean’s stomach but he doesn’t go to follow Castiel. Those images still play in his mind, like an old film he can’t stop. Over and over he sees himself plunge a knife straight into Castiel’s heart.

 

And somehow he knows this is only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s head throbs as he looks around the decaying room. Castiel stands before him, Bobby beside him. He tries to speak but only a hiss of pain comes out. Castiel’s face is cold and stoic, his lips move but all he can hear is a buzzing in his ears. Sam enters through a door on the other room and for a moment he is relieved to see him but then he notices the blade in his hand. Dean tries to scream but it doesn’t stop Sam from raising the blade and slicing through Castiel’s back.

“Sam!” Dean sits up in bed, covered in sweat and heart pounding. He turns to Castiel who is still sleeping soundly beside him and runs his hand across the unmarred skin where there should be a gashing wound. 

“Dean?” Castiel asks sleepily, cracking one eye open.  
“Sh, go back to sleep.” Dean places a kiss on where his hand had been. “Everything’s okay.”

“Did you have another nightmare?” He tries to sit up but Dean keeps a firm hand on his back.

“I love you,” he says instead of answering his question.

Castiel’s eyes soften and he turns onto his back and grabs Dean’s hand. “I love you too.”

“I know I’ve been acting a little weird recently.” He pulls Castiel against his chest. “But it’s all going to be okay.”

Castiel nods mutely against his shoulder and doesn’t pester Dean with the questions Dean knows are swimming around his head. They fall back asleep like that and though Dean’s worried he’ll just go back to the same place he dreamed off before, his mind is blissfully empty the rest of the night.

Castiel is gone when he wakes up and Dean can’t help but feel a little hurt but he also feels that his strange behavior is slowly pushing Castiel away. He dresses himself and goes to get some breakfast but when he opens the door he finds Castiel coming up the stairs with a mug of hot coffee. 

“Thirsty?”

“A little,” he admits. Castiel pushes him back into the room and sets the mug on the edge of the night stand. “I’m going to be late for work.”

“You’re always late for work.” Castiel puts his arms around Dean’s shoulders and kisses him but Dean pulls away.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“You hate morning sex.”

Castiel hums in agreement. “Yes, I do.”

Dean's hands rose up and undid the buttons on Castiel's shirt, popping them open one by one. In turn, Castiel's fingers began to work Dean's belt, yanking hard when he got the buckle loose to pull it free of its loops. Dean shifted his hops so Castiel could pull his jeans and boxers down. Dena would have been perfectly happy to take Castiel just as they were, half clothed and eager just as they had when they first got together. He tries to think back to then, years ago when had just gotten together but his mind fogs up. All he can remember is hazy images.

"Am I boring you?" Castiel laughs softly and his hand wraps around Dean, jerking him out of his trance.

"You have my full attention, babe," Dean groans as Castiel begins to stroke him. 

"Good." Castiel leans in and kisses Dean, his tongue darts out to trace his bottom lip and his hand never pauses in it ministrations. He slowly leans back and let’s go of Dean when his back hits the mattress. Rifling through the night stands' drawer, Dean nibbles at the base of Castiel's neck while he searches for the bottle of lube. When he finds it, he is quick to coat his fingers in the slick and slide his hand between Castiel's legs. Castiel lets out a small gasp when he feels Dean push inside him, his fingers clench into the pillow beneath his head. Dean slowly works him open, reveling in tiny sounds he is able to draw out of the man beneath him. "Dean."

"Hm?" Dean smirks.

"I'm ready."

"Not yet." Dean shakes his head and rubs his fingers against something that makes Castiel shiver.

"Please," Castiel begs.

Dean places one more kiss on Castiel's shoulder before he pulls back and lines himself with Castiel's entrance. He moves slowly against Castiel making the other man sigh in frustration and dig his nails into Dean’s shoulders. “You can do better than that.”

“Ask me nicely,” Dean whispers against Castiel’s lips.

Castiel frowns up at Dean, annoyed at his games but he lowers his voice and pleads. “Please, I need you, Dean.”

Complying, Dean grabs hold of Castiel’s hips and pulls him into his lap. Castiel moans when Dean’s fingers press into his hips and he goes faster and faster with each moment. Dean bites at Castiel’s collar bone then runs his tongue along the skin to sooth the burn. Castiel trembles and begins to chant Dean’s name as if he is worried Dean might stop if he doesn’t. Pushing a hand between their two bodies, Dean wraps his hand around Castiel and thumbs at the pre-come that marks the tip. He grins at the sound Castiel makes at the sensation. “Like that?”

“Dean, I-” a moan tears out from between his lips and Dean feels Castiel tighten around him.

“Sh, I got you, baby.” Castiel’s head drops back and he doesn’t speak again. Dean would like to think he rendered him speechless. Castiel’s hand grips Dean’s arm and that is all the warning he gets before Castiel comes and covers his fist.

Feeling Castiel clench and spasm around him is enough to send him over the edge as well and he moves roughly against Castiel a few more times before he can’t take anymore. He lays chest to chest on Castiel, looking him dead in the eye as Dean licks his fingers clean. Castiel lets out a breathless sight at the sight and quickly leans in to kiss Dean and lick at the mess on his lips. 

Dean rolls off of Castiel and onto his back. Dean stares at the ceiling as he tries to catch his breath. Castiel lets out a content sigh and turns onto his side, looking at Dean with a tiny smile. Dean’s head flops to the side and he reaches out to intertwine his fingers with Castiel’s.

“Marry me.”

It takes Dean a second to realize that the words came out of his mouth. Castiel laughs softly but when Dean doesn’t join in on the laughter his smile fades away. “Are you serious?”

Dean slowly nods and squeezes Castiel’s hand. Castiel just stares at him with steady, unblinking eyes. Dean has nearly convinced himself that Castiel is preparing to say no when he finally answers. “Yes."

“Yeah?” Castiel eagerly nods and his lips stretch into a smile. Castiel sits up and pulls Dean up along with him. Pressing himself against Dean, he wraps his arms tight around Dean’s shoulders and smashes their mouths together.

“I love you,” Castiel mumbles against Dean’s lips as he crawls into his lap. 

They both call sick into work that day.

$%^$%

Dean expects his life to change after that. He expects that whatever crazy was working with in him would go away. However the nightmares just get worse, most night he wakes up screaming and even though Castiel acts supportive, Dean knows something is seriously wrong. 

Three weeks after his proposal, Castiel and him are sitting at the table together. Dean is watching some new television show while Castiel drinks some tea and reads the newspaper. Out of the blue he snaps.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Dean says suddenly.

“Pardon?” Castiel’s brow wrinkles in confusion and he sets him mug down on the table.

“You’re not right.” Dean fingers fiddle with his sleeve while his mouth moves seemingly without thinking. “I don’t know what it is but you’re all wrong.”

Castiel is silent for a moment; Dean isn’t sure if he’s seething with anger or thinking over what he just said. When he finally does speak, Dean doesn’t much like the response. “I’m not the one being problematic, Dean.”

Dean flinches at Castiel slightly accusing tone, he knows he hasn’t been a hundred percent the last few weeks. Something about the party had just thrown him off and perhaps Castiel was right, maybe he was the that was losing it. “You’re different.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Castiel’s voice softens ever so slightly but Dean just finds that even more disturbing. Castiel wouldn’t do that, Castiel didn’t understand the subtleties of human interaction and he would have just bluntly told Dean how it was. 

“It’s like…” Dean trails off as he tries to decide on the proper words to use. “You’re so close to being right but it’s like you’re not all there.” 

He finally looks over to Castiel, who looks confused, hurt and a little angry. Dean gets it, he’s not making any sense and he’s trying to explain something that he doesn’t even get himself. Castiel is right there, Dean can see him, touch him and yet this feeling keeps creeping in on him. The feeling that it’s all fake, that Castiel is just a fragment of something and Dean finds himself wondering if Castiel is even there at all. Castiel rises from his seat and takes Dean’s hand in his, when he speaks his voice is slight and cracked, the voice of someone barely holding it together. “You’ve had a long day, I’ll take you up to bed.”

“No.” Dean yanks his hand free from Castiel. “I need you to understand.”

“We will discuss it in the morning,” Castiel says and before Dean can argue he holds up his hand and ads, “please. I’m very tired.”

Castiel doesn’t go to sleep. He lays next to Dean until he thinks he’s fallen asleep and then gets up and walks out of their room. Dean waits a few moments before he follows him, quietly stepping down the stairs till he can hear Castiel on the phone.

“Sam,” Castiel says in a hushed voice. “Something is wrong with your brother.”

“I understand,” Castiel nods. “I’m going to call his work tomorrow, he needs vacation time.”

“Stress, of course,” Castiel mumbles, entirely unconvinced. “I will keep you updated.”

Castiel hangs up but doesn't go back upstairs, Dean peaks into the living room and sees Castiel make a bed for himself on the couch. Dejectedly Dean returns to his room, that night his dreams are filled with his hands soaked in Castiel's blood.

The next morning he feels awful but he makes the decision to not let his slowly deteriorating mind ruin Castiel's life as well. Castiel goes to work after Dean insists he’ll be fine at home for a couple hours. He clearly has reservation of leaving Dean alone after their conversation the day before but finally agrees to go.

Dean waits till he’s sure Castiel isn’t coming back and gets into his car. He drive downtown and spends all day driving from store to store until he finds exactly what he was looking for. Then he just waits, literally, he sits at the table and waits for two hours for Castiel to come home.   
When he hears Castiel’s car pull into the drive way he jumps to his feet and greats him at the door. “Hey!”

Castiel is a little taken back by Dean’s enthusiasm just at him returning home. “How was your day?”

“Great, it was great,” Dean grins.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Dean grabs his hand and pulls him into the kitchen. Castiel starts to ask him if he’s feeling okay but then Dean picks the small box up off the table.

“I hope you weren’t expecting a flashy diamond,” Dean laughs.

“You bought me a ring,” Castiel says a little breathlessly. “I didn’t…I haven’t gotten you one yet.”

“I’m sure you’re just waiting to find one worthy of someone as handsome as myself.” Dean flips open the black velvet box and presents it to Castiel.

Castiel hesitates. He takes the ring bit Dean notices his hesitation and he hesitates again before putting it on. While he tries to mask it by turning the ring around and examine it as if admiring the ring, Dean can tell he second guesses putting it on, if only for a moment.

"I love you," he tells Castiel and when Castiel opens his mouth to answer Dean tackles him to the ground. Castiel has a brief moment of panic, probably thinking Dean has finally lost it, before Dean brings his hands to his side and begins to tickle him.

“Dean,” Castiel laughs. He vainly tries to struggle but Dean has a feeling he’s not trying all that hard. Dean leans down and steals a kiss before his lips move on along his jaw and down his neck. Castiel let’s out a shaky breath and cranes his neck to give Dean better access. Dean pauses at Castiel’s collarbone, something suddenly seems strange and wrong. Dean’s hands tighten around Castiel’s wrists and his mind tells him that Castiel would never let him hold him down like this because Castiel was stronger then he was. Castiel could shatter every bone in his body if he wanted to. Dean sits up and rests on his heels, he looks straight ahead as his mind tries to process new information that doesn’t seem wrong but didn’t seem to fit in with everything he knew either.

Castiel pushed himself up onto his elbows and reaches for Dean but he gets his hand slapped away.

"You're not Castiel," Dean says, stands up and just walks out of the room.

It ends up being the last straw. Castiel calls Sam again, then someone else and an endless string of phone calls later there are four men standing outside his door trying to usher him into their car.

“Please, Dean. You need help.” Castiel was close to tears, he wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulder and he can feel the way Castiel is shaking. Dean didn’t know what to do; the thought of going with those men was terrifying yet Castiel was so distraught that Dean had to do something about it. Dean puts his hands on Castiel’s hips and locks eyes with the man in the doorway. There’s one tense moment where all Dean can hear or feel is Castiel sobbing into his shoulder before he finally nods his head.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll go.” Castiel actually starts to cry harder, his tiny sobs breaking into a downpour of tears.

“Thank you, thank you,” Castiel murmurs into his shoulder. Despite Castiel being the one to ask him to leave he can’t seem to let him go either, he keeps Dean in a death grip and practically breaks down when he has to let him go when they reach the car. “I’ll come tomorrow, just- just promise me you’re going to be alright.”

“I’ll manage,” he says blankly. The men usher him into the car and they drive away, the outside world blurs outside the tinted windows. For the first time in months not a single thought passes through Dean’s mind.

 

&&&

 

Dean’s first few days are filled tests and examinations, he’s poked and prodded, the doctors interrogate him. They ask about Castiel, they ask about his parents and they ask about Sam, Dean answers every question even though he doesn’t think they have any right to know. He tells himself that he only has to be there a short while, the doctors will see there is nothing wrong with him and send him home. 

Castiel keeps his word and visits the next day, at least that’s what the nurse tells him, the doctors won’t let him see Dean because they say he’s not ready for it. A full week passes before Castiel is finally allowed through, he hugs Dean so tightly he thinks his ribs might break. It’s nice seeing him but Dean is still trapped inside the bleached walls of the institution and he can’t pretend to be happy. Castiel spends the first twenty minutes apologizing and trying to hold back regretful tears, Dean quietly listens but a voice in the back of his mind scoffs Castiel doesn’t cry.

Sam visits once, he looks at Dean with confused eyes and even though he tries to understand what Dean tells him, Sam just keeps shaking his head. Dean finally snaps at him and after a long, tense moment, Sam just gets up and leaves.

Once all the tests are over, all the results are in, the doctors are none the less baffled than when Dean first arrived. Everything reveals that there is something most definitely wrong with Dean yet labelling it proves harder than expected. It only gets worse; within two weeks of his arrival Dean begins seeing the other patients eyes turn an inky black. Their once pleasant, if not unusually drained and bland, smiles become sinister and malicious. Dean loses all sense of time, without the meds the doctors prescribe him he barely manages to get four hours of sleep and it shows with every faint line that ends up etched beneath his eyes. 

Where once he looked forward to Castiel’s visit, the man that was once his rock, Dean comes to dread it. Castiel is where everything started, Dean would like nothing more than to return to that July 3rd where they laid in bed and laughed at each other’s drunken humour but had changed so drastically . Castiel’s very touch made Dean’s skin turn to ice, as if he was sucking the very life out of him. 

Castiel visits him as much as he can, he still has to work and now he probably has these huge medical bills to pay to keep Dean under twenty four hour watch. On rare occasion they Castiel stay late, on nights that have been particularily hard on Dean. This night Dean can't even make it out of bed for visiting hours but Castiel manages to convince the gaurds and doctors to let him visit Dean in his tiny dusty room.

Castiel crawls onto the bed next to him and presses his chest against Dean’s back. “I know this is hard. I believe in you though, I know you will get better.”

“You don’t understand, Cas.” Dean shakes his head. He clutches Castiel’s hand in his and takes in a deep breath. There isn’t really a way to describe what he’s been through, what he sees in his dreams or what his mind struggles with everyday. “Those dreams, the ones that keep me up. They’re about you.”

“Is that so bad?” Castiel asks, genuinely concerned and interested in Dean. He’s not paid to care like the doctors, he’s not worried about his family’s reputation like his dad was, Castiel just wants Dean to get better and come home with him. That’s what really makes all this so difficult, Dean worries that Castiel will one day just have enough of him and walk out. Castiel has always been Dean’s rock but whatever was in his head seemed to hate Castiel like he was the plague.

“You die in them and sometimes-” Dean’s voice breaks and he swallows hard. “Sometimes I kill you.”

Castiel is silent; there is just the pitter patter of raindrops on his window and the sick feeling that Castiel is about to walk out the door. Finally he speaks, in the same hushed voice you’d use on a spooked animal. “It’s only a dream.”

“I don’t know,” Dean shakes his head. “What if it isn’t?”

“I’m not an angel.” Castiel grips Dean’s shoulder and turns him onto his back. “Why would you want to live in a world like that? There are no monsters here.”

“I…” Dean starts doubtfully, he doesn’t know which one to believe; the voices in his head that are loud and unrelenting or Castiel who is there, who is soft and warm and everything he’s ever wanted. How could Dean want that world over this one? Castiel is right, that world in full of monsters yet Dean does everything he can to be apart of it. 

“They killed my mother,” Dean says suddenly and Castiel jerks away. Eye wide in disbelief, Castiel shakes his head but Dean continues. “Demons killed mom, that’s why I hunt monsters.”

Castiel shushes him but the door has already swung open and a white coat comes marching in. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“He’s just confused,” Castiel whispers harshly to the doctor. “Give us a few more minutes.”

“No,” is all he says. Castiel still doesn’t move and the doctor waves in some guards from the hallway. “I won’t ask twice.”

Castiel purses his lips and Dean thinks he might actually try to take on the two meat head security guards. Dean puts a hand on Castiel’s arm and shakes his head. “Go home.”

“But-”

“I’ll see you week,” Dean cuts him off. “Just leave.”

Castiel looks hurt, the fight instantly leaves his face and slopes into a tight frown. He barely manages a tiny nod before he gets up and walks out the door, the guards follow him out but the doctor stays him Dean. He rubs a hand over his eyes and drags a chair over to Dean’s bedside, at least this time he has the decency to try and smile at him. 

“Now, let’s discuss these monsters.”

 

&&&

He wishes he could tell Castiel he was getting better, that the doctors where curing him but it would just be a lie. Instead everyday it gets a little worse, the voices get a little louder and every night he dreams of Castiel. Sometimes it's the monster that sneers and snaps it's sharp teeth at him, sometimes it's an angel who looks at him with adoring eyes and he can't help but wish that the Castiel in his waking world was like that. He wakes up feeling either horrified or guilty, he's put Castiel through so much and yet he still wants more.

They give him two months to recover, to show some progress and yet Dean is slowly turning into a rambling mess. One cloudy Monday morning, Castiel comes in with an entourage of doctors with him, he speaks but Dean doesn’t hear him, the doctors point and frown and Dean barely even looks at them.

“Dean,” Castiel snaps. “Do you understand what they are telling you? They are sending you away, they are going to separate us.”

“They can’t do that,” Dean says. “There isn’t anything wrong with me.”

Castiel drops to his knees and gathers Dean’s hands in his own. “Please, just tell them you don’t believe in any of that. You can stay, you can get better.”

The nurse waves one of the guards down, his face sours at being called to handle Dean again. “We need to get out of here.”

Castiel eagerly nods. “Yes, yes, we can leave this place.”

“We need to…we need to get back home.” Castiel’s whole face brightens up and the doctor behind him even looks surprised. “To our own world.”

“It’s time.” The doctor motions to the guard and points to Dean. “He won’t go easy.”

“He won’t be a problem,” Castiel assures them and rises to his feet. “Do you understand what’s happening? This is it, Dean, I can’t help you any longer.”

Dean looks at Castiel as the guards go to stand on either side of him, the buzzing starts up again in his head and he can barely hear the two man yelling at him to get up. “I just wanted us to be happy, Cas.”

Castiel’s brow furrows at Dean’s words but before he can say anything Dean’s already moved. He elbows the guard on his left, not hard enough to knock him down but he doubles over and that gives Dean a chance to reach for the gun in his holster. The other guard tries to stop him but Dean’s already pulling back and slamming the butt of the gun into his temple. Castiel reels back but he’s not quick enough to escape Dean’s reach. In a flurry of motion Castiel finds himself with his back pressed against Dean’s chest and a gun pressed against his temple.

“Dean,” Castiel breathes out, brain trying to process what’s happening. “Dean, what are you doing?”

The doctors and guards all take a cautious step towards them, their eyes tense and steady and focused on Dean. An arm tightens over Castiel’s neck like he would be daft enough to try and fight him off with a gun pointed to his head. Dean growls and jabs the gun harder into Castiel’s skull. “Don’t take another fucking step.”

The doctors freeze and exchange worried glances with each other but one decides to test Dean and moves closer. Dean steps back, his finger tightens on the trigger and Castiel lets out a frightened sob. “I swear to God I will blow his brains out if you don’t back off.”

“Please,” is all Castiel manages to choke out as his body begins to shake.

“It’s okay,” Dean whispers in Castiel ear. It does nothing to sooth him so Dean continues, “it’s okay. I’ll get us out of here.”

“This is insane.” Castiel doesn’t stop the tears that begin to flood down his face. It all seems so wrong, Dean really doesn’t know how it came to this; this hospital, this situations, right down to the gun in his hand it’s all so horribly wrong. 

Another doctor steps forward to join his colleague and Dean pushes the gun so hard against Castiel that his held tilts to the side. “What are you doing? I’ll kill him!”

“Even if you do,” the nurse stars, walking up to join the others. “How do you plan to get out of here?”

“He’s going to kill me,” Castiel breathes out, eyes wide at the staff’s apathy towards his life. Dean feels a jab of pain that Castiel thinks that’s true, that he doesn’t realize it’s all a ploy to break him out so they can run off. Castiel is shaking within his grip, “Do something!”

“You’re going to let him die to get one nut case?” Dean shakes his head. “I doubt that.”

“We’re not letting you leave,” the doctor says frankly. Dean freezes, the doctors have lain it out plainly that he doesn’t have any options. He isn’t getting out whether he has a hostage or a corpse, they are going to lock him up for the rest of his life and there is nothing he can do about it. 

“What are you going to do, Dean?” Castiel asks his voice suddenly soft and calm. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I’d never do that.” Dean insists even though he had a pistol pressed again his temple.

“You’ve tried though,” Castiel points out. His hand slides against Dean’ forearm, almost soothingly yet no one in the room seems to notice the sudden change in atmosphere. 

“But none of that’s real.” Dean’s head begins to pound, the light is nearly blinding and everyone voice seems to blend together into one confusing buzz. “No, no, this is what isn’t real.”

“It can be real,” Castiel tells him, he turns his head around to look at Dean, the gun now resting on his forehead. “If you want it to be, it can be real. You can be happy here Dean.”

“Who are you?” Dean asks shakily. He looks into those deep blue eyes, the face he wears is soft and kind but it doesn’t reach his eyes. No, his eyes are cold, empty pools that might pull Dean in and drown him if he stares too long. “You’re not him, you’re not Castiel.”

“I’m the one you want, Dean. I’m the one you get.” His hands rise up slowly, not wanting to spook Dean as he reaches for the gun. “I love you.”

“You don’t.”

“You and I, we can be together here,” it smiles at Dean as it’s fingers slowly wrap around Dean’s death grip on the gun. Dean feels sick that he’s lived along side this thing for so long, loved it, touched it, not ever once realizing it was fake. It smiles at him and Dean really does want to believe, he wants to believe that Castiel and him built a life together, that Castiel could love a man like him, to even believe that Castiel was real. Now he isn’t sure about any of that.

“I’m sorry,” Dean chokes out. The thing smiles at him like he’s won and never expects the elbow to the face he receives. The fake Castiel stumbles back and clutches his bruised cheek, Dean cocks the gun but he doesn’t aim it and Castiel or anyone else.

“Dean! Don’t!” It shouts, panic strewn across his face and he tried to reach Dean in time.

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeats. The gun is cold and metallic in his mouth; he can taste the bitter gun powder clinging to the barrel. He doesn’t even give it a second thought before he pulls the trigger.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean wakes up with the mother of all headaches. Which is a little unusual since he shouldn’t be waking up at all. Yet he opens his eyes to a dismal, rat infested warehouse.

“You’re awake,” a gruff voice says beside him. Dean looks to his right and finds Castiel kneeling next to him then to his left and finds Sam.

“Man, I didn’t you were going to make it,” his brothers says relieved. “That djinn sure did a number on you.”

“A Djinn?” Dean asks slowly, his mind still foggy. 

“Don’t move to quickly,” Castiel warns when Dean tries to sit up to fast. 

“We were starting to think you weren’t going to wake up.” Sam wraps his hand around Dean’s bicep and helps him, slowly, to his feet. “You were gone for a week and we’ve been trying to get you to come to for at least a day and a half.”

“Cas couldn’t fix me?”

“I healed you of the djinn’s poison,” Castiel shrugs. “You did not seem keen on ending the illusion.”

Deans looks at Castiel, physically he’s identical to the man he lived with in his delusions. His demeanour is another thing entirely, where the other one was always neat and well-dressed this Castiel is clad in an oversized trench coat and tussled hair. Where the man he lived with smiled and laughed this one seems stoic and blank. Yet Dean sighs in relief because in the back of his mind that’s exactly how he thinks Castiel should be.

“Must have been a hell of a dream,” Sam lets out a strained laugh and offers Dean a bottle of water.

“It started alright,” Dean mumbles and accepts the water, twists it open and downs half of it in one gulp. “It didn’t end that way.”

Castiel eyes Dean almost suspiciously. “Are you sure you are alright?”

Dean groans. “Please don’t ask me that.”

Castiel’s brow furrows but Sam pushes past him and motioned to the door. “Car’s out back.”

“He shouldn’t be driving,” Castiel points out. “I will take you two home.”

“No,” Dean pushes past Sam and Castiel. “I’m driving my baby home.”

Castiel doesn’t look happy but he doesn’t argue. They all climb into the car and Dean speeds off before the other two are completely settled. Sam pushes one of Dean’s cassette tapes in and turns up the volume, Castiel just leans against the window and stares out at the passing darkness. 

Dean lets it all sink in that all of that was a dream. He was right and his life with Castiel was too good to be true. All of that, the house, the job, him and Castiel being him and Castiel, it was all just some farfetched fantasy.

“You can’t get rid of me, Dean.” Dean swerves and slams on the brakes, Sam lurches forward smacks his head on the dashboard. 

“What the hell?!”Sam shouts.

Dean turns around and looks at the back seat where Castiel looks at him quizzically. The voice had been right in his ear, it sounded like Castiel but in the twisted way that the one in the other world had. “Did you hear that?”

“No.” Castiel and Sam exchange a look. “We didn’t hear anything.”

“Must have…must have just been my imagination.”

“Perhaps you are still feeling the effects of the djinn venom,” Castiel offers.

“Yeah, maybe.” 

After some forceful suggestions, Dean gets out of the car and switches seats with Sam. They agree that until they know that Dean is completely healed he shouldn’t be driving. Sam drops them off at the motel and tell Castiel to watch him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid before he gets back with some food.

“Are you sure you’re well?” Castiel asks him after a long hour of silence.

“I’ll live.”

“May I ask you something?”

“You just did, Cas.” Dean laughs at the look Castiel give him. “What do you want to know?”

“What…What was it that kept you from waking up?” Castiel asks. “You’ve been poisoned by a djinn before, it should be less effective than before. Yet you refused to wake up.”

Dean stiffens at the question, not sure if he really wants to give an honest answer. “I don’t know. Mom was there, Sam was happy and there was…”

“There was what?” Castiel presses.

“There was you.”

Castiel’s brow draws together. “Me?”

“I remember it, all of it.” Dean eyes drop, he forces himself to look away from Castiel because he won’t be able to get this out if he has to do it under Castiel scrutiny. “I remember waking up beside you every day. I remember the way you touched me. I remember the way you taste.”

“I didn’t realize…” Castiel trails off and Dean doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else.

“And maybe none of that was real but it’s still there. I still remember it and I don’t what I’m supposed to do with it now.” Dean risks a glance at Castiel, the angel looks confused and while there is no trace of the disgust that Dean was expecting, he didn’t looked thrilled by his confession either. “Whatever, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not your problem.”

Dean picks up his coat and grabs his keys off the table. “Just forget I said anything.”

Dean tries to walk past him but he is yanked backwards by Castiel’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “Wait.”

Dean grimaces and refuses to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Look, I’ve had a long day so I don’t need you to-”

Castiel steps closer and Dean’s words died in his throat. The angel’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, his eyes scan Dean’s face till they settle on his lips. Time seems to slow as Castiel leans in, it isn’t till Dean feels Castiel’s lips brush against his that he actually believes that Castiel will go through with it. It is soft and tender, ends nearly as soon as it begins and when Castiel pulls away Dean catches the nervous glint in his eyes.

Dean acts before he can think. He grabs Castiel by the lapels of his coat and crushes their mouths together. It intense and a little frantic, nothing like the chaste kiss that Castiel had given him. Dean’s fingers grip at Castiel’s hair and the angel hesitantly lists his hands up to Dean’s chest.

In his delusion, that Castiel always knew what to do. He was confident and skilled, he could make Dean go weak in the knees with knowing hands. Yet the one in front of him is nothing like that. He’s unsure, his hands shake a little when they slip beneath Dean’s jacket and it seems like that missing piece that made the other Castiel so fake.

When his fingers begin to tug at Castiel’s shirt, the angel’s hands come up and gently push at his chest. “Wait.”

“What?” Dean asks with a rough voice. “What is it?”

“I know that to you this is normal but to me this is still very…new.”

“Oh.” Dean pulls away. “Yeah…that’s okay.”

“However…” Castiel trails off and looks at the door. “Perhaps next time Sam is away.”

Dean almost grins at Castiel’s eagerness but Sam actually does come through the door at that moment. The look in his eyes let’s Dean know that Sam can guess what he walked in on but he graciously doesn’t say anything.

“I take it greasy burgers are fine with you?”

Dean laughs. This feels like home.  
%^%$^

 

Dean wakes up in his old room, the sun just peaking up past the horizon and turning the thin white curtains a dazzling red. He closes his eyes again, the world is just waking up but Dean can postpone waking up just a little longer.

“It’s not over, you know.” Dean turns around and next to him is Castiel, the freak he left behind in the hospital, a coy smile plastered on his jaw as he pulls the fluffed blanket tighter around himself. “Things are never that easy.”

“I’m not listening to you,” Dean says stubbornly. This is just a bad dream, after effects of the djinn maybe, he’s not really here. “You’re a liar.”

“I’m in your head, I say whatever you want me to.”

“No, I’m home now. I’m with Sam, Castiel’s an angel and I’m saving things,” Dean protests. He jumps out of the bed and stomps over to the door, maybe he can’t wake up but he refuses to spend another moment with that man.

He tares open the door but it’s blocked by Castiel, Dean looks behind him at the now empty bed and back to the angelic replica in front of him. “Poor Dean, you’re so lost.”

“No,” Dean repeats, grinding his teeth in frustration.

“Those dreams, they won’t just disappear.” Castiel steps forward and pushes Dean back inside the bedroom. “I’m sure you’ve already had a few. You’re dangerous, if you stay with me I’ll only end up in a coffin. Then it’s only a matter of time before the same happens to Sam, it’s already happened a few times.”

“Stop it,” he snaps and throws a punch at Castiel. His hand makes a sick cracking sound when it collides with Castiel’s jaw, Dean cries out and cradles his broken hand against his chest, letting out a stream of cuss words.

“You should have stayed with me.” Castiel grabs Dean’s hand, a searing pain shoots up Dean’s arm until Castiel runs his thumb over the shattered bones and it patches itself back together. “There isn’t anything here for you. Weren’t you happy?”

“I was in a mental house!”

Castiel clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “You tried to fight it, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Who are you?” Dean asks for what seems like the millionth time. “You keep coming here, every time I close my eyes and I have no idea who you are. You’re not Castiel, I don’t think you’re a djinn or a demon so what are you?”

“Maybe I’m your conscious.” It smiles at Dean, a toothy, slimy smile and steps closer to the hunter. “Because you know this is all wrong, you know everything you touch withers and dies and you know you should get as far away from Sam as possible. Yet you stay and we both know it’s because at your core you’re a selfish, scared little boy.”

Dean is seething, this was supposed to all be over and still here was the monster that haunted his dreams. Castiel looks at him with mock sympathy and moves back towards the door, Dean’s hate filled eyes follow him all the way there.

“You can try and hit me again if you’d like but I won’t heal you twice,” Castiel chuckles. “If I were you I’d think very hard about what I’ve just said.” 

 

Dean’s eyes snap open and nearly collides with Castiel who is standing over Dean’s bed. “Are you alright? You were making noises in your sleep.”

“I swear to god, if one more person asks me if I’m okay I’ll-” Dean swallows the harsh words and frowns at Castiel. “What are you doing here?”

“Sam went to the library.” Castiel sits down on the bed next to Dean. “He didn’t want you to be left alone.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” Dean glares at Castiel, letting his anger get the best of him even though he knows Castiel is only trying to help.

“Even if I couldn’t, I don’t know what you think you could do.”

Castiel frowns. “Dean.”

“What?” Dean snaps.

“Tell me what is wrong.” Dean wants to yell at him but in reality he is just so tired. 

“It still feels like…” Dean trails off but Castiel patiently waits for him to finish. “Everything still feels wrong.”

“The djinn had you for a very long time, perhaps the effects are still lingering.” Dean nods his head though he knows that’s not what’s happening. He’d been poisoned by a djinn before and beside feeling like crap for a day or two there wasn’t this extreme reaction he had now. Still it was different this time, his life had turned into a nightmare before the illusion fell apart. 

“I just need some sleep.” Dean forces a fake yawn and stretches his arms above his head. Castiel probably knows that he’s gotten more than enough sleep already but maybe he can pretend he’s still tired from the djinn’s poison. He just wants to be left alone. “I’m sure you got places to be anyways.” 

“I don’t,” Castiel tells him and Dean has to resist rolling his eyes, of course Castiel doesn’t pick up on the subtle hints Dean is throwing out to get him to leave.

Dean raises his arms above his head and stretches. “Well don’t just hang around watching me sleep. It would be a little creepy.”

“I understand.” Castiel stands up and Dean turns around for only a second to arrange his pillows but when he turns back the angel has already disappeared. Dean sags, the façade he kept in place for Castiel crumbles and he just feels exhausted. Curling up on the rickety bed he realizes the best he can hope for is a dreamless sleep.

&&&

 

Dean’s in the hospital again. It’s not the one from before; there aren’t bars on the windows or straps on the bed. Castiel is sitting next to him in an old rickety chair, he looks unusually distraught with his eyes wide and glued to the hands in his lap. Dean tries to say something but his throat is rough and dry so instead he reaches out towards the other man. His hand is thin, hundreds of lines scatter over his skin. Castiel eyes look red like he’s been crying but he grabs Dean’s hand and gently rubs his thumb along the warn skin. It all feels so familiar yet so wrong. He looks around and asks for Sam but Castiel just shakes his head and squeezes his hand. He doesn’t understand why he looks so old and Castiel still looks so young. He begins to panic and hears Castiel try to calm him down but a pain shoots through his chest. The last thing he hears is a flat line. 

“Dean, we’re here.” Sam shakes Dean awake and turns the car off.

“What?” Dean asks hazily.

“We’re at the crime scene.” Sam tosses the keys into the ashtray, looks into the mirror and straightens his tie. “You’re suits in the backseat, there’s a bathroom you can change in before we go talk to the detectives.”

“What crime scene?” Dean straightens up in his seat and looks around. Oddly he finds himself in the passenger seat in the impala, despite having fallen asleep in a motel room. His FBI suit is cleaned, pressed and laid across the back seat. 

Sam gives him a strange look. “Where that high school girl died.”

“Are we working a job?”

“Uh,” Sam lips purses in worry. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Dean says blankly.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Sam taps his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. “Castiel said you were acting funny last night.”

“No, no, I can do this.” Dean reaches back and grabs his suit. “What's it look like to you?”

“Well, it looks like an animal attack.” Sam riffles around in the dash till he finds John’s journal and pulls it out. “But if you poke a little deeper, it definitely sounds like a werewolf.”

“Great, sounds like a walk in the park.” They step out of the car and Dean turns towards the park bathrooms. “I’ll get changed, you go start talking to the cops. See what they know and I’ll come find you.”

“Sure, see you in a bit.” Sam does a button up on his jacket and moves towards the wall of police tape wrapped around the nearby playground. When Dean got to the bathroom he locks the door and lets his suit fall on the ground. He stares blankly at his reflection in the mirror and turns on the sticky tap, letting the water run till it warms up a little. Splashing water on his face Dean racks his brain to try and remember how he got in the car. He had no memory of leaving the motel room, as far as he knew he had shooed Castiel out of his room and then tried to get a few more hours of sleep.

The only reasonable explanations are either that he’s been walking around all morning completely out of it or something he didn’t even want to consider. In the other world he lost time too, at least that’s what the doctors said, yet Dean was convinced it was just the delusion warping and changing its design. Trying to mold the world around Dean so it seemed more realistic so he would stop questioning it, stop fighting against it. 

It's horrying to think that's what happening here. It was supposed to be over, Dean was supposed to be home, saving the world and pulling pranks on his little brother.

"You look pale." Dean spins around and nearly snaps at Castiel that it's not a good time.

"Just tired," Dean says instead. "First case since I got put under."

"Do you require assistance?"

Dean laughs and wipes a paper towel over his wet skin. "Yeah, I don't think you'll be much help."

Castiel bristles and stands straighter as if he'll appear more capable. "I'm not useless, you know."

"No offence but I've seen you interview people before." Dean tosses the dirty towel into the trash and picks his suit up. "Look if we need help gaking the beast or finding some obscure relic that's only available in Egypt, I'll give you a call."

Castiel's lips purse. "You're allowed to call me for reason other than helping you hunt."

"Uh," Dean trails off. "Yeah, I know that."

They stand in an awkward silence, Castiel not speaking and Dean not sure what to say. Castiel opens his mouth to say something but then closes it, his eyebrows furrow and Dean can see him struggle with something he might not completely understand. "I was worried about you."

"Something wrong with that?" Dean asks.

"No," Castiel shakes his head "it was different this time though."

"In what way?"

"I'm not completely sure myself," Castiel admits. "The thought that you might not survive, it made me..."

Dean waits for him to finish, Castiel looks away and runs his hands along his coat in a unusually human gesture. "It was terrifying." 

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"The two of you seem to take that phrase a little too seriously." Castiel licks his lips. "I wasn't certain I could bring you back."

"You did, so it's fine." Dean shrugs off his jacket and puts it on the counter. He doesn't to talk about this and Castiel just wasn't picking up on the message. "I need to get ready and I'd rather not do it in front of you."

"Of course." There's a flutter of wings behind him and when he looks in the mirror he finds himself alone again.

He change into his suit and joins Sam and the case goes on just like all the others. The locals convince themselves that nothing out of the ordinary is going on, Sam snoops around till he finds something useful, the first person they suspect end ups being innocent and then in the middle of the night they manage to tract down the werewolf.

That's where things stop being so normal, the werewolf is just a kid really, a teenager that got himself bit. They didn't have time for either of them to reconsider the fact that they had to kill a child. The boy might have been in high school but he was built like a rock, must of been a hell of a football player. Needles to say, he managed to beat the ever loving crap out of SAm and Dean. He even got grazed by one of the silver bullets and still managed to keep going.

With both their guns knocked away, Dean tries to keep the beast distracted while Sam tries to locate where their weapons were thrown. Sam takes a little to long and the werewolf moves a little to fast, it isn't long before Dean is smacked to the ground. The werewolf pounces on him, his claw dig deep into Dean's shoulder leaving a sticky mess but he doesn't go for Dean's throat. Instead he stares at Dean, spittle sprays across the hunters mouth every time he snarls yet he doesn't attack. Heart beating like a jackhammer Dean can't do anything beside stare back into the monsters eyes, the face of a young man twisted into something grotesque, and wait for it to finally snap.

"Dean!" Sam screams from somewhere and then a loud bang sounds out. The beast is knocked off Dean and howls loudly, the sound slowly turns into a very human yell and then a painful crying. By the time Dean gets on his feet he's already dead. Sam runs up to him panting and holding the sawed off shot gun in his hand. "Are you alright"

"Yeah," Dean swallows. "I'm good."

"That was close."

"No kidding," Dean snorts. He turns and walks back to the impala, Sam follows asking him what he wants to do with the body. "I'll take care of it, you head back get everything from the motel."

"You sure?" Sam asks. "I can help."

"It's fine, I'm just going to find a new grave and burry him there. No one's gonna notice."

Dean pops opens the trunk and puts the shot gun away he grabs a shovel and when Sam's not looking he grabs something else and shoves it into his coat. "Okay, I'll see you."

It doesn't take long for him to find a newly dug grave, dirt fresh and loose , it'll save Dean a lot of effort trying to get rid of the evidence. He’s four feet in when Castiel appears, not even blinking when he finds Dean covered in graveyard dust, just another typical day in the life of a hunter. “Did you find it?”

“You could say that.”

“It wasn’t a werewolf,” Dean says bluntly, tossing more dirt over his shoulder.

“Pardon?”

Dean jabs the shovel into the dirt and turns to Castiel. “All the years I’ve been hunting I’ve never once seen a werewolf freeze up like that.”

“It was young.”

“No,” Dean picks up the shovel again and goes on digging, “it was wrong.”

“Of course it was wrong, it was an abomination.”

Dean flinches at the words, just like the Castiel in the hospital this one was so close to being authentic yet just not quite right. Dean reaches into his coat and feels the cold metal hidden in it. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"I never said you were." Castiel moves closer to the grave and Dean grits his teeth.

"Whatever is going on, I'm going to find a way to end it." Dean climbs out of the grave and turns to Castiel. "And I'd have to be an idiot to not see right through you."

"Dean, what are you talking-" Dean moves fast, stopping Castiel in his tracts. He grabs the angel knife ticked away in his coat and grips Castiel's shoulder, one swift movement and he has the sword rammed in up through Castiel's heart.

Out of Castiel's mouth comes a little gasp, then a wheeze and when nothing else happens Dean comes grins because he's been proven right. It's not really Castiel, it was just as fake as the other one. It was just another cheap imitation, Dean knows Castiel well enough to know that this thing couldn’t hold a candle to him. 

Castiel’s hands tremble as he places them on Dean’s shoulder. His face twists in pain as he tries to push Dean away. In a weak voice he manages to choke out "close your eyes." 

"What?" Dean asks. Castiel pulls away slightly and Dean looks down at the wound, its seeping a bright blue. "No."

Castiel shoves Dean away, he lands back into the grave and Castiel staggers back. "Close you're eyes."

"No, no, no. You're not an angel." Dean scrambles to his feet and tries to climb out of the grave but his eyes freeze at the sight of Castiel’s hands wrapped around the angel blade and staggering back to try and further the distance between Dean and him.

"Dean," is the last thing Castiel says before a bright light bursts out. Dean ducks down and covers his eyes, the sheer power being expelled slams against his chest. As soon as the light dies down, Dean jumps out of the grave and races over. 

"No, this wasn't supposed to happen." Dean grabs Castiel's trench coat and shakes him but the angel is limp and heavy in his hold. His puts his hand on the wings seared into the dirt. "Castiel, please."

He racks his brain to figure out what he could have missed. He was so sure that this wasn’t Castiel but there are the angel wings seared into the group. He scrapes his fingers against the black marks on the ground but no matter how much dirt he pulls away he finds those black marks have seeped far into the ground.

“I want to wake up,” Dean whispers. “Please, whatever this is, I want to wake up.”

Behind him he can hear laugher. Though he can’t see him, Dean knows it’s the voice of the imaginary Castiel in his dreams. It gives him another ray of hope that he was right, that this must just be a hallucination. With a dead angel behind him and manic laughter in his ear, Dean is left alone, clawing at the shadow seared into the ground


	4. Chapter 4

Sam finds him, clinging to the dead angel, nails bloody and torn from where he had dug into the earth, convinced the burned out wings were only an illusion. At first he doesn’t speak, his eyes widen with shock at the sight of poor Castiel, lying cold and dead beneath Dean. It’s the blood on Dean that rouses him, the evidence of his crime stained into his clothes and skin. “Dean, what did you do?”

“I don’t know,” Dean tells him, nearly in tears. “I don’t know, he was wrong. I didn’t kill Cas, I couldn’t kill Cas.”

Sam grabs Dean’s jacket and yanks him back. He throws Dean onto the ground and stares at the corpse sprawled on the ground. “Shit, shit.”

“You don’t understand,” Dean tries to explain as he scrambles up to his feet. “It’s okay, he’s not Cas.”

“Dean!” Sam shouts and pushes Dean away from Castiel’s body. “Do you see this?”

Sam grabs the back of Dean’s neck and forces him to look at what he’s done. “That’s Castiel, that’s our friend. You did this, why did you do this?”

“No,” Dean whispers. “You’ll see, it’s not him, you’ll see.”

His brother let’s go of him, Sam staggers back and gaps at Dean. His eyes are wide, red from the emotions bubbling inside him, the shock slowly seeps away into terror. Sam is actually afraid of his brother, his brother who is raving like a maniac and covered in their friend’s blood. Dean can’t really blame him for it.

Sam drives home, he doesn't say a single word to Dean the whole time. It's probable he has no idea what to say, still trying to process the sight of Dean slaughtering Castiel for seemingly no reason. Dean's mind is still frozen on image of the angel, blue light spilling out through his white skin, telling Dean to close his eyes. Even with his own end approaching, even with Dean's hand still wrapped around the hilt of the blade, Castiel still was protecting Dean.

They don’t talk, don’t even look at each other, the silence rings in Dean’s ear almost as loud as the screaming in his head. Sam buys them a room and they both collapse on their beds still fully clothed, neither of them sleep, they spend the whole night just staring up at the dark ceiling. 

%$^$%^$%

Dean nearly breaks down when he opens his eyes to a mop of black hair. Castiel gives him a weary smile but Dean’s gaze is glued to the big, red stain in the angel’s chest. Beside them Sam sleeps peacefully, everything in its exact place and it’s only the fact that Castiel is standing in front of him that he knows he’s dreaming.

“You’re dead,” Dean finally manages to push out.

“I’m fine,” Castiel corrects, “despite the best of your efforts.”

Dean deflates, his head drops into his hands and his fingernails dig into his scalp. “I thought-”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought.” Dean hears Castiel’s coat bristle as he takes it off, a wet sludge sounds as the bloody fabric peels away. His stomach lurches thinking about the gaping hole on Castiel’s chest. The bed dips as Castiel puts a knee on it, leaning over Dean and he can feel the cold, dead air that flows off him. “I only care about what you did.”

Dean’s head snaps up and he comes face to face with the bloody white shirt that Castiel is slowly unbuttoning. Dean looks away, barely holding down the bile that rises in his throat and Castiel lets out a gentle laugh at the expression on Dean’s face. He undoes the last button and slips the shirt off, he runs a finger over the unmarred but stained skin across his chest. “See? All better.”

Dean hesitantly reaches up and places his hand on Castiel’s chest; it’s cool and clammy, the flesh of a dead man and Dean knows that he’s just dreaming. God, does he want it all to be real though.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sh,” Castiel hushes him. He gently pushes Dean back onto the bed and lies on his side next to the hunter. “I’m here now.”

Dean wants to believe. But it’s never enough, whatever is happening to him the illusion never lasts long. As real as he seems at first, eventually it all falls apart and Dean is left with a barely recognizable bastardization of the angel. Dean’s known Sam his whole life, he can predict every though, every move his brother makes but he still doesn’t have Castiel figured out. His mind just can’t keep up with what his gut tells him and each time he eventually picks out the flaws in the fake Castiel. 

"I can't do this anymore, Cas," Dean tells him. "I don't know what’s real.”

Castiel smiles at him. "Our minds are often our worst enemies."

Dean shakes his head, “is that all this is? Is it all in my head?”

“There is so much more going on, Dean. You just don’t see it.”

Dean doesn’t bother asking Castiel what he’s talking about because he knows he won’t answer, he never does. “Where ever I go, there is one thing that never changes.”

“What’s that?” Castiel asks, his hand running up and down Dean’s arm.

“I can’t keep you,”

Castiel leans in, his fingers stroke Dean’s cheek and his cold breath tickles his ear. “It’s time to wake up.”

“Dean, you need to get up.” Sam is shaking him.

"I'm awake," Dean mumbles, shoving Sam away.

"I found a case for us to work," Sam informs him, gathering everything into his duffel bag.

"A case?" Dean asks. "Already?"

"Yes," Sam answers curtly. Dean wants to shout that Castiel hasn't even been dead twenty four hours and Sam is already moving on but the words die in his throat. Dean is the reason Castiel is gone and Sam literally has no idea how to handle it. He probably blames whatever the djinn did on Dean's actions and he either has to believe that or believe that Dean murdered their friend in cold blood. In something that is entirely too Dean like, Sam is burying it all under work and booze. And Dean can't say anything about it because it is all completly, one hundred precent his fault. Like everything else he's ever touched he's both ruined Castiel and Sam in the span of a single day.

"Yeah, okay." Dean get's up and shoves his boots on. Sam rushes out the doorway and jumps in the impala with Dean grudgingly following him. Along the way Sam explains where they're going and what there hunting. Another lady in white, luring men into an old stone bridge and hurling them to their deaths. He describes the victims, possible folk lore that could trace the origins on the ghost.

"She could certainly learn a thing or two from you, Dean," someone sneers behind him. Dean glances back into the rear view mirror, Castiel glares back, a bloody hole in his chest and hate filled eyes. Dean slams on the breaks, the car behind him narrowly misses wrecking his trunk and blares his horn as he swerves away.

"Hey!" Sam yells, throwing his arms out to stop him from jutting foreword into the dash. "What the hell?!"

Dean's eyes stay glued on the mirror where the angel sits glaring at him. He spins around, hoping to find Castiel pissed off and alive but only finds an empty seat instead. Next to him Sam is still yelling "are you insane? You could have gotten us killed."

Dean can feel his blood run cold, he's totally awake and yet he saw that monster clear as day. He's knows it's not the real Castiel but he'd been given a glimer of hope and had it smashed. He turns back around and pressed the gas peddle again, ignoring whatever Sam is saying. He tries to compose himself but it feels like the whole world is crashing down on him.

As usual they change into their FBI suits but while Sam interviews people Dean's head is too crowded to make much sense of what is happening around him. Everytime Dean thinks that he's figured out what is happening to him it only get's worse and worse. Now he's seeing this things while awake. It hopeless he tells himself, no matter what you do, you can never brea free of this.

The sound of rushing water floods his ears, nearly putting him in a trance and all he can think about is that there is only one way out. Perhaps it will all be over, perhaps he’ll wake up somewhere else, and Dean really isn’t sure which one would be worse. His feet move seemingly by themselves, they carry themselves towards the bridge with Sam’s voice ringing in the background.

He looks over the edge of the bridge; white rapids are crashing against the jagged rocks. All the rain from the day before has raised the water level and it’s turned a smoky black from all the dirt it’s collected on its way to the river.

“Dean!” Sam calls out as he rushes over to his brother. “What are you doing? We’re working a job.”

“I can’t,” is all Dean says, mesmerized by the peeking waves and frothy aftermath.

Behind him Sam sighs, long and heavy. “Look, I knew this was too soon. Why don’t we just head back to Bobby until you get your head back in one piece?”

“Bobby’s dead,” Dean tells as if discussing the weather. “I get it know.”

“Dead?” Sam asks. “I was on the phone with him this morning. What are you talking about? What do you get now?”

Dean grabs onto the railing and quickly pulls himself up, nearly slipping on the wet edge of the railing before a frantic laugh rips out of his chest. “I never woke up. There was no hospital and there was no djinn.”

“What are you doing?” Sam shouts. He steps forward but fear stops him from getting any closer, worried he might spook Dean. “This isn’t funny!”

“I think I know what I have to do.”

“Dean! For the love of God, get down from there!” Sam shouts at him.

“I was wrong,” Dean whispers, Sam probably can’t even hear him. “This whole time, I’ve been wrong.”

“Wrong about what? Please, just step down and we can talk about this,” Sam begs him.

Dean falls but he doesn’t hit anything, it seems as if he falls forever, never stopping. When he finally has the courage to open his eyes he finds nothing but white light 

Fine, is this what you want? A voice echoes around him. Stay here forever then. You can rot here with only your own misery to keep you company. 

“Who is that?” Dean yells.

I’m done. It answers and there is nothing but silence and bright light. Dean screams for Sam, for Castiel, for the strange disembodied voice to return. Eventually he resorts to running, convinced there has to be an end to this place. He runs for what feels like hours, though he convinces himself that it must just be minutes because it’s not possible to run so long and find nothing. It begins an awful cycle, he runs and stops, yells till he’s hoarse and then runs again. Back and forth he goes between running and screaming but he never finds anything besides the echo of his own voice. 

“Someone has to be able to hear this,” he tries again. “Sammy, are you looking for me?”

Exhausted Dean lies down on the floor that doesn’t even have his shadow cast upon it. He doesn’t sleep, not at first, an agonizing long time passes while he waits for someone to find him. It could have been days for all he knew, every second certainly felt like an eternity. The drain proves too much and the pull of sleep too strong to resists. The bright light bleeds through his eyelid and even his dreams are scorching white.

 

&&&

 

Dean opens his eyes to a blinding light. His heart sinks and his stomach turns, his eyes burn and his mouth goes dry.

It’s not the same light though.

It takes a moment to adjust, to see, but the rest of the world comes to around him. He’s not in the blank white room; he’s surrounded by forest with tall, old trees and birds signing around him. He almost burst out into laughter out of pure relief till he remembers that this new world is probably just as suspicious as the rest. 

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean shoots up, jumping to his feet, ready for a fight but instead his heart nearly stops at the men standing in front of him. There’s Castiel, he’s dressed a little differently in only a black suit but it’s him. Beside him is another angel, who is glaring daggers at Dean but Castiel waves his hand and dismisses him. “I can handle it from here.”

The other angel glowers. “Don’t be long.”

And he’s good. Probably the best version of Castiel that Dean’s thought up yet but Dean isn’t going to fall for this again. Not after the rollercoaster he’s been in.

“It’s been a long time,” Castiel tells him. He doesn’t make a move to close in on Dean, in fact he seems to be keeping his distance.

“Has it?” Dean asks, voice harsh and angry.

“I hope you wouldn’t mind me telling you I have missed you.”

“Who the hell are you?” Dean snaps.

Castiel seems a little off put by the question. “You know you I am.”

“You’re not the first Castiel I’ve run into, pal.”

Castiel’s lips curl into a barely there smile. “That’s flattering.

“Okay, enough with the games!” Dean yells. “Tell me what the hell is going on!”

“The other angels were frustrated with you,” Castiel explains. “You’re a difficult person to craft paradise for.”

“Paradise?” Dean laughs harshly. “This was paradise?”

“Every soul gets it’s own heaven.” Castiel starts walking into the forest and Dean stays close to his heels, sure that any second the angel might just evaporate. “It is supposed to be an endless reel of your happiest memories.”

“Yeah, they kind of dropped the ball on that, didn’t they?” Dean snorts.

Castiel smiles, it’s not the joyful smile he had at their too-clean house in Kansas, it’s not the condescending smirk of the monster in his dreams or the faint hint of a grin of the stoic angel he’d run through with a knife. It was just a tiny, barely there smile, one his mind ached to remember. It was a smile he’d seen on a November first in a park full of screaming kids, one he’d scene after a frantic night at a brothel that ended horribly, it was the one Castiel had moments after Sam had bested Satan and left Dean all alone. It wasn’t particularly happy, at most it was mildly amused and only lasted for a second before it disappeared. It was real though. It was something that Dean’s mind had been trying to replicate over and over, desperately wanting nothing more and failing every time.

“This is real, isn’t it?”

“Very.” Something snaps in Dean’s mind, a single word is enough to crack whatever heaven had done to Dean’s mind and memories flood back. Not the tiny pieces that he’s been seeing in his dreams but full chunks. He remembers hell and the ear piercing screech of Castiel’s real voice. He remembers Sam’s death and resurrection, the deal Castiel made with Crowley and the toothy freaks that came from it. It all hits him at once, like a freight train to the chest and he stumbles back against a tree for support.

“Whoa,” is all Dean can wheeze out. There are still gaps, moments that aren’t quite clear but he gets his life back. He gets the time with Sam back, feelings and precious moments that no one could ever replicate.

“Is it all coming back now?” Castiel asks as if him nearly doubling over and puking wasn’t enough indication. “We’ve decided to try something different with you.”

“No,” Dean coughs. “I’ve done too much shit to end up being heavens chew toy.”

Castiel gives him a long, hard look, he waits till Dean has composed himself before he motions for him to come closer. “I’d like to show you something.”

Dean almost tells him to fuck off, he’s so done with all of this that he’d pick blissful oblivion over whatever heaven has planned. But he’s struggled for so long for this, the nightmares, the hallucinations, saying no to Castiel just didn’t seem like an option. 

Castiel walks off and Dean follows, through the thick woods till they reach a clearing. “What is this?”

“It’s just a bit further.” Castiel points to over the hill and as Dean gets closer he hears music and laughter ringing through the air. On the other side of the hill there’s a house, it’s nothing special, two stories and a backyard full with a barbeque and a kid’s play house. Dean’s about to ask what was the point of coming here when the glass door slides open and out walks a blonde with a young boy clinging to her side.

He recognizes Jessica, he has no idea who the kid is but Jessica looks exactly like she did when Dean had broken into her place and stole Sam away. Jessica sets a bowl of salad on the table and calls out back into the house then out comes Sam, grinning like an idiot and holding a plate full of raw steaks.

“Sam…” Dean trails off and steps towards him but Castiel grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“Don’t ruin it,” Castiel warns.

“Ruin it?” Sam lifts open the barbeque and drops a few steaks on them, slapping on some sauce while the kid goes crazy in his little house. “What is this?”

“When Sam passed we gave him the same heaven as everyone else, the endless loop of happy memories. Like you though his mind was able to break through the illusion and reject it. This is what we gave him instead.”

“But it’s not real!” Dean protests and tries to free himself from Castiel’s grasp. Sam is so close and who knows how long it’s been since he’s last been with his brother and not some second rate delusion. 

“They’re not expecting you.” Castiel let’s go of Dean’s arm but the hunter knows he’d never make it far if he tries to run. “Jessica is real, soul mates share the same heaven of course. The child, John, he is something we added.”

“That’s sick,” Dean growls.

Castiel tilts his head, he almost looks awed by Sam’s family. “This is what Sam wanted; it is the life he was never able to have.”

Dean turns back to the house behind him, Jessica plants a kiss on Sam’s cheek, her wedding ring glimmers when his hand rests on his shoulder. John runs behind them with a toy airplane held high about his head and Sam quickly turns around and picks him up. The kid laughs and Sam smiles, a grin so wide Dean’s thinks his face might just split open. “But not me.”

“Dean-”

“No, I get it, his perfect life doesn’t involve his messed up brother.”

“Of course you’re apart of this.” Castiel puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder and looks him in the eyes, Dean flinches at the intensity of the angel’s gaze. “You are apart of his family but if you rush in and disturb their meal, Sam may find that a bit strange.”

“So why does Sam get all this, his picket fence can’t be happier life and I get a living nightmare?”

“Sam knows how to be happy,” Castiel says. Dean bristles as the comment but Castiel speaks again before Dean can argue. “Neither you or Sam could live in the same heaven that the rest of humanity does. Sam though is able to accept that he can have joy in his life, that Jessica and him deserve happiness. You’re very mind rebels against the idea.”

“Well maybe you just didn’t try hard enough,” Dean snaps and then when Castiel’s eyes narrow he tries a different tactic. “So I have see through one of your creepy ass Pleasantville scenarios and you guys just decide to chuck me? Is that it?”

“Dean,” Castiel sighs and he moves back to the forest. “Do you know how many times we’ve tried to find the right place for you? Do you think this is the first?”

“It isn’t?”

“You’ve been dead nearly two hundred years.” Dean’s brow furrows thinking he must have misheard. That’s impossible, even if you include the time he spent being mister man of the house and him re-living life as a hunter. He couldn’t have been gone more then a year. “This has been the fifth time we’ve had to pull you out of your paradise. We had you in your memory loop, we gave you a life with your parents still alive, a life with Lisa, even a life that was oddly reminiscent of that dramatic medical show you were so obsessed with. It never stuck. This time we thought putting you back as a hunter would be sufficient but you’ve actually broken through it three times as fast as the others. I’ve come to try and find a solution.”

“What makes you think that I won’t just break through this happy ending like all the others.”

“The Winchesters, always making trouble for the angels,” Castiel chuckles. “I’d like to think that I know you well enough to succeed where they failed.”

Dean swallows hard, there’s been a question nagging at the back of his mind since he woke up in the forest. “Do you know…Do you know what my ‘happy ending’ was.”

“I have a vague notion,” he answers nonchalantly.

“So you know that you were in it?”

“In a few of them, yes,” Castiel nods. “My presence in your Lisa fantasy would have been disruptive though.”

Dean acts on impulse; something he probably should have learned is an awful idea. He tangles his fingers in Castiel’s dishevelled hair and pulls him close. Their lips collide but Dean puts so much effort in not loosing his nerve and running away that the kiss turns out to be too fast and rough. Pulling back he sees the shocked look on Castiel’s face and actually grins, it all seemed worth it just to see such an intense expression on his usually blank face.

"That was...unexpected."

Dean reels back a bit suddenly embarrassment. "You said you knew!"

"Well yes." Castiel wiped his hands over his coat, smoothing out the wrinkles left by Dean less then romantic gesture. "But you've never acted on it before."

Dean feels blood rush to his cheeks an uncharacteristic blush spreading over his freckled skin. "So you and I were never...?"

"The rest of your memories should start to gradually come back, we've been suppressing them for quite some time. It may take a while before they are fully restored." Castiel leans against one of the old rickety trees and observes Sam. "No, you and I were never more than friends."

"There was never any time," Castiel says thoughtfully, as if he'd been thinking about it for a long time already. "There were always battles to fight, we never had time to even consider each other."

"So you never thought about uh,” Dean pauses and considers the least cheesy way to say what he’s thinking. “

"I always knew." Castiel says it so plainly, no doubt, pure and total conviction to his words. "If we had more time, perhaps it would have led somewhere. Human life is short."

Dean feels like he’s been robbed of something, like time was stolen from him. Castiel was right, the world just demanded more and more of them and neither Castiel, Sam or himself were ever given a chance to just live their life. "You just left me here."

"I was content knowing you were happy, that was all I ever wanted for you."

"News flash, I haven't exactly been Livin' la Vida Loca the past few months." Castiel's eye brows draw together at Dean's reference and Dean heart clenches at the familiar look. He wishes he could remember everything from his real life, those memories meant so much more then the fake life he's been living. The tiny glimpses he had of Castiel just didn't seem like enough, he must have known Castiel for years and yet they were robbed of a chance to live their lives together. Castiel might have only cared about Dean's happiness but Dean wanted more. "You could have fought for me."

Inwardly Dean cringes at the chick flick sounding phrase but Castiel doesn't even notice, he looks genuinely concerned that Dean thinks that he would just abandon him. "A human soul belongs in heaven."

"Yes, but-"

"You didn't want me, Dean," Castiel interrupts. Dean pauses and he notices for the first time Castiel's demure, how he avoids looking Dean in the eye, how he tried to keep his distance, always moving away when Dean got close. He occurs to Dean that perhaps coming here wasn't easy for Castiel. "When I was human, when I was traveling with you and Sam, I uh 'made a move on you.' You were less then thrilled." 

Dean could tell the words weren't his own, such a Dean thing to say and he could just picture the dejected look on Castiel's face when he said them. So typical of Dean to reject something he wanted so badly and Castiel was right, Dean just didn’t know how to be happy.

Even with his memories coming back one by one, there were still holes. Yet he remembers some time long ago, he must have been at least fifty but of course Castiel look the same as he had when they first met. Dean was passing the room going over the details of a case, Castiel patiently listening to Dean ramble on. His memory skips a little and suddenly Castiel has a hand on Dean’s neck and their lips are pressed together. When Castiel pulls away he looks at Dean with hopeful yes, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. Just when Dean thinks he might lean in and kiss him again, he shoves Castiel away.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Dean had hissed out as he wiped his mouth. Castiel look at him with shattered hopes before nodding and disappearing in a flutter of wings.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Dean admits. “It’s fuzzy, everything that happened before but from what I do remember…I wasn’t the nicest guy.”

“The apocalypse can have that effect.”

“So why are you even here?" Dean asks though he suspects he won't like the answer. 

"The world asked too much of you, Dean," Castiel explains. "I never held that against you, you never had the chance to think of what was best for you. It was always what was best for Sam, what was best for the world and I considered it an honour just to be called your friend."

Dean let out a dejected laugh. 'Turned out real great for you." He waves around to his surroundings. "Still having to run around cleaning up after me."

"You deserve happiness, you deserve this."

"What is 'this' exactly?" 

Castiel snaps his fingers and in a blink of an eye' they are out of the room and in a grey room lined with guns on the wall. "Do you remember this?"

Dean looks around the room. "A little."

"It's where your grandfather worked, Sam and you lived here for a rather long time." Castiel straightens one of the pictures hanging on the wall. "We think you'd be more comfortable here."

"Alone?"

Castiel glances at Dean over his shoulder. "I can't stay here and we can't bring Sam out of his heaven with Jessica."

Dean's mouth goes dry, the thought of spending eternity completely alone isn't exactly appealing, especially now that he has his memories. Castiel notices the look on Dean's face and shakes his head. "However, we can remove the replacement Dean Sam has and you can visit him. Sam expects you over every Sunday for family dinner."

Dean perks up at that, the idea that Sam can have his apple pie life and Dean can still see him. Castiel pauses before adding, "I could...I could visit you as well."

Castiel says it so softly as if there is any chance that Dean would reject his offer. It suddenly hits Dean just how long it's been since Castiel and him have actually spoke. He's probably been keeping an eye on him, watching him live with other people, sometimes even with a cheap copy of himself but never able to be close with him. Silently watching and never speaking a word to him. This is the first time in over two centuries he's spoken with Dean and Castiel still thinks that Dean doesn't want him.

“I'd like that," is Dean's answer. It's not romantic, or heartfelt, not an undying declaration of love because as much as Dean's heart aches with the thought of never seeing the angel again, he really has never 'been' with him either. He wants him to stay, not just visits but jus the two of them in that small room only ever leaving to see his little brother. That's not who Dean is though, he doesn’t beg people to stay, he doesn't chase after them and because Castiel is the one that pulled him out of hell, the one that put him back together, he knows that.

So he just smile that tiny smile and nods. The light above them flickers and Castiel makes a sour face because he turns back to Dean and his expression softens. 'They want me back now."

"Already?"

"Unfortunately yes." Castiel looks at him, really looks at him, in the creepy, I don't understand social cue way Dean remembers from before. The lights flicker again and it breaks Castiel intense stare and he sighs. "Sam will be expecting you tomorrow, I will come get you at four."

Castiel points to the clock next to his bed and it flickers to life, reading ten fourteen in bright red numbers. "I don't suppose you could make sure there's pie on the menu."

Castiel nods, clearly taking the request as an order and not the joke Dean had intended. "I can arrange that."

Dean laughs and falls back on the bed. "Sounds great, Cas."

Castiel flies off without saying goodbye, just like Dean expected him too. Dean curls up on the bed and digs his head into the pillow, inhaling the slightly stale scent. The bed is harder then the one in his house but softer then a motel. Still it's exactly where he wants to be. Heaven finally got something right.


End file.
